EXQUISITE NIBBLES

EXQUISITE NIBBLES
Bruce Ruston

I’m writing as seesaw
swinging in momentum
of small print an discloser,
discloser an small print
Like a Freudian session
my mother a sloth,
my father a slug
I want to put my hands
on your heart and tie your arteries,
in to pretty bows
and say “how beautiful,
that shade of blue suits you”
I want you to step on my toe
and say “just, give me an excuse,
to dig through earthen layers
like an archaeologist numbering discovery”
In turn I’ll hang you wall’d,
repainting you a Pollock
in flicks of warm honey,
an pulses of blood
They won’t let me near knives
after I carved a replica
of the 16th chapel on your door
keeping slivers of wood
for later, in exquisite nibbles

©2012 This work is the property of the author.